The M Word: Expanded Scenes
by midnightbokeh
Summary: When Ms. Maleficent Moore, successful CEO and ruthless businesswoman, is approached by an old enemy with a bizarre offer, the opportunity it presents is too good to pass up. (Scenes from Mal's POV, set in the same modern AU as "The M Word" by Dinard)


**Author's Note:** These are scenes from Maleficent's POV that expand on the modern AU fic, The M Word by Dinard (aka beastie-beauty on tumblr). It's highly recommended you read that first to get the full background story!

* * *

Maleficent looks out the window and watches a uniform layer of white clouds slide by beneath the wings of the corporate jet. _Altocumulus_. One of her favorites, the formation has always reminded her of thick, snow-covered hills and valleys blanketing the world as far as the eye can see.

"Legal just sent you a new revision of the patent acquisition agreement," says her personal assistant Diaval, slouched comfortably in the leather seat across from her, eyes glued to a laptop perched on his knees.

"I'll review it in the morning," she replies without looking away from the view.

Diaval taps a few keys before continuing, "Looks like Sloane's division won't meet their sales projection for the second quarter in a row. The board's going to want to know why."

"Sloane is an idiot, that's why."

"Nevertheless, the idiot is one of _your_ minions, whose performance ultimately reflects on you."

Maleficent brushes off the comment with a flick of her wrist. "And he had such potential in the beginning. They all do," she says, "right up until they forget the actual purpose of an entertainment budget. I'll have to axe the lot of them and start over."

"But the earnings report—"

"Won't be filed for another two weeks. If we close the deal with Hubert, which I've every intention of doing, we'll be in the clear."

Outside, the bright blue skies have taken on a tinge of molten gold at the edges, melding into darker cobalt from the top down as late afternoon shifts into sunset.

Diaval hums. "Isn't Hubert one of Stefan Rose's affiliates?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Maleficent arches a brow, turning her full attention to Diaval now. He swivels the satellite TV screen around on the armrest to face her and increases the volume.

"You're going to like this. A lot."

The talking heads are in the midst of a lively discussion as captioned clips from a press conference play in the background. _"—yet another crack in Rose's empire. Has he gone too far with this latest blunder?"_

_"The NAACP and ACLU have released statements denouncing the billionaire's racist and homophobic remarks—"_

"Diaval."

"Yes, Mal?"

"Get me a contact list of _all_ of Stefan's business partners." Maleficent's grin is full of teeth. She reaches into the sleek shoulder bag propped on the seat beside her. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some e-mail to compose."

* * *

Predictably, Stefan barges into her office the next morning. Not so predictable is what he brings to the table.

Maleficent listens to him carry on, head tilted and fingers steepled as she leans back in the executive chair behind her desk. The actor-turned-businessman paces and gestures dramatically, voice rising and falling with every point of his proposition: a last ditch effort to rescue his torpedoed public stature by wedding Aurora, his twenty-year-old daughter, to Maleficent in exchange for a sizable slice of his private empire. Finally, he finishes and turns to face her, arms crossed.

"Well?" he demands. "What do you say?"

Maleficent holds her impassive silence and posture for several long moments, pretending to consider despite having already made up her mind. Let the man squirm. Unlike Stefan, Maleficent does not possess the distinct weakness of caring what others think of her. She hadn't risen to her current position of power by giving a damn about pesky things like _character_ and _reputation_. No, and for that very reason she would profit a great deal from accepting this ludicrous offer.

On one condition.

She lifts her head and looks Stefan in the eye. "I want fifty-one percent of your company. And not a single share less."

Stefan balks at that, of course. "Do you take me for a fool?"

_Why, yes_. Out loud, in a conciliatory tone, Maleficent says, "Stefan. You and I both know that operating a business with all its daily hassles is not among your strengths. You wouldn't be here otherwise." Stefan opens his mouth to voice a protest, which she cuts off. "Let me finish. You've said your piece; now it's my turn."

He scowls, but waves a hand for her to continue.

"As I was saying, it's well known that your company is struggling, and not _only_ because you have a penchant for running your mouth at the most inopportune times. You wish to buy my hand for your daughter to save your own neck, yet all you offer is equity." Maleficent folds her forearms on the surface of her desk and leans forward. "That equity is worthless to me unless I have free reign to make your business profitable again."

"How do I know you won't kick me to the curb just because you can?" Stefan's suspicious glare borders on outright hostility.

"It's simple. As founder and sole owner, you are the face of your company. And since we're technically competitors, and I have no intention of leaving my role here as CEO, this… transaction will have to remain our little secret. Your position is secure."

Many moments pass without a word, each of them sizing the other up. Stefan seems to be searching Maleficent's face for any trace of a lie.

"It's a win-win for you, Stefan. I'll do the work, you get all the credit, and you'll have more free time to enjoy with your latest plaything."

"_Fine_," the man snaps. He pulls out his phone and punches at it with his thumbs. Maleficent's own phone on her desk lights up with a series of numbers in response. "Draw up the contract and fax it to my home office. We're done here."

As Stefan turns on his heel and storms out, Maleficent leans back in her chair with a satisfied smirk. She hadn't expected the taunting message she'd sent early this morning to result in such an opportunity. Now that it has, she plans to pursue it like she does all things in life: mercilessly, unhesitatingly and without the least bit of scruple.

* * *

"You can't be serious." Diaval looks incredulous. His pen has rolled off his desk, a fact that appears to have escaped his notice.

Maleficent gives a hearty chuckle from the doorway of her office. "Oh, but I am."

"What about the girl?"

"What about her?"

Diaval frowns. "Doesn't she get a say in all this? It's _her_ life too that's getting traded away like a commodity."

"She's-" Maleficent pauses. Though she hates admitting it even to herself, the girl's — _Aurora's_ — opinion on the matter had hardly registered in her mind, so intent was she on ensnaring Stefan in her trap minutes ago. "For God's sake, Diaval, I'm not a predator," she says with more vehemence than necessary. "No harm will come to her."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Diaval gives an annoyed huff. "What if she has other plans? Or is already in a relationship? What will her friends think? She'll be all over the tabloids, lose what little privacy she has…" He ticks off the points on his fingers.

Maleficent silences him with a hard look. "It will only be for a few years; she's young enough to bounce back from this. I'll make sure she's appropriately compensated for her troubles."

"And what about you? If you think you can get through with your feelings unscathed—"

"_That_ is none of your concern." Maleficent sweeps back into her office, pulling the door shut behind her. "Get back to work!"


End file.
